The Morning After
by PrincessofMirkwood01
Summary: Legolas x Aragorn. The king and the prince like to play games. Somewhat dirty games. It keeps their discreet affair more interesting :) M for later chapters. Comment, favorite, follow :)
1. A Ride the Morning After

**A fluffy, fun little ficlet featuring the secret affair between a rugged ranger turned king of men, and a certain elf Prince of Mirkwood :) This does reference some male on male action. Don't like it? Then don't read it, silly!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Not even one elf.**

A Ride the Morning After

As the sun committed to its morning ascension, the long disbanded but still fiercely loyal Fellowship of the Ring woke at rosy dawn's light, respectively ambling out to the stables. They had made these plans awhile back, founded upon a lighthearted conversation during which they decided it might be fun to ride together again as they had in the old days. However, this time around, their lackadaisical frolicking through Gondor would be brimming with laughter and playful reminiscence, and severely lacking danger or imminent death.

And so when the host of old friends had made arrangements to visit Minas Tirith mutually, it seemed only natural that they agreed to ride.

Aragorn, the ever accommodating ruler of the land, cordially had the horses saddled by the stable hands before anybody arrived, anxious to get underway with no patience for lollygaggers. As king, it had become customary for Aragorn to relish in the magic of time, spending every minute productive.

Aragorn smiled to himself as one hand lazily stroked the powerful torso of his stallion. He felt that the last few hours had been extremely productive. And pleasurable, which was good because the royal advisors had recently advised that Aragorn try and have more fun as he was becoming too overwrought. The thing was, Aragorn had no problem letting himself go every once in awhile. It just required the right person to nudge him into the ecstasy of letting loose.

The hobbits came striding down to the stables first, strung together in a foursome that refused to be parted.

"Good morning," Aragorn greeted them cheerfully with a wave of his gloved hand.

"Mornin,'" Pippin sang out in his melodic accented tone. "You're up early."

"I was excited this morning," Aragorn admitted. "Had a thrilling night, and couldn't sleep anymore."

"Those papers you were trying pass?" Frodo quirked an eyebrow. "Did legislation sign them to law?"

Aragorn blinked, nearly angry with himself for letting those papers slip his mind. It wasn't a very kingly thing to do; completely neglect the very documents that had consumed his courtroom for the past month. However, he was much too exhilarated to berate himself. It was, after all, his official morning off.

"Yes," Aragorn grinned, his mind flashing back to the victorious celebration he had enjoyed the previous night. "They did, finally."

"Good for you," Sam grinned doggedly. "Those laws were smart, Aragorn. They'll be good, in the long run, you know."

Aragorn could hardly keep himself from jumping up and down at the praise. He was a dignified king, however, he was really on a roll in terms of the small triumphs he continued to have.

"Thank you, Sam," Aragorn beamed.

As he spoke, Merry who was bumbling about nearby, promptly rammed his head into a stable door.

"Merry!" cried Pippin, his voice laced with concern. "Are you alright?"

Merry turned around slowly, all eyes present trained on him.

"Sorry, about that," the Halfling hummed. "I guess…I'm just so tired."

Gimli and Faramir meandered down next. Faramir was not a part of the fellowship. However, seeing as they were quite fond of him, and he was a nice memory of Borimir to revel in, the men were pleased to invite him on their ride. They exchanged pleasantries, both men anxious to know how Aragorn's council meeting had gone, and thrilled to hear of its success.

Finally, the last of the fellowship was spotted on the crest of the hill. All elegant limbs and golden muscles and fair, cascading locks, Legolas descended upon the stables with unparalleled poise and elfish grace. His limber form outlined by the rising sun, it was so picturesque that every member of the group turned to gaze at his arrival.

Legolas grinned his dainty, mischievous smile as he greeted the others hello, a twinkle in his sapphire-like eyes.

"Good morning, Aragorn," he whispered as he finally turned to the other man with raised eyebrows, as though he had uncovered his king's deepest secret.

"Morning," Aragorn chewed on the word, drawing it out as he strode to his horse. Mounting the steed with ease, the king of men pointed towards the woods.

"Let's ride out over the range to Lake Gilligan. It's beautiful there in the morning," Aragorn said. And the others had to agree.

The hobbits aided each other in clambering atop their horses, chuckling as they did so. Insisting he didn't need help _(Dwarves are natural horse masters)_, Gimli struggled to mount his enormous equine, leaving Faramir to shrug and climb atop his own horse.

Legolas seemed to be oddly preoccupied whilst the others took a few moments to mount, staring between the wide torso of his animal and his own booted feet as Aragorn observed curiously.

"Legolas," huffed Gimli as he settled upon his horse. "Do you need the horse to invite you aboard? Nay, let's go."

Legolas licked his lips, almost nervously, and scuffled his feet against the ground.

"On second thought, friends," the prince of Mirkwood said. "I don't think I'll be joining you today."

An eruption of protests filled the stable, as the others refused to hear of it. Only Aragorn did not raise his voice as he continued to watch the elf's stressed expression.

"I just don't," Legolas went on in a taut voice, "think I'm up for a ride today."

"Why not?" demanded Frodo incredulously.

"I'm afraid I put myself through an intense physical work out yesterday evening, gentlemen," Legolas stated delicately, and Aragorn nearly choked on his spit. "Much athletic practice and exercise. It was rigorous, and I now find myself sore."

"That's strange," Faramir raised his eyebrows as things didn't quite seem to fit, and Legolas swallowed hard. "I was at the training ground all day, and I didn't see you."

"Uhm—well, actually," Legolas continued, his tone flimsy. "I was out in the woods."

"The woods?!" Pippin chirped in horror. "But Legolas, surely you've heard. The woods are off limits by law. It's not safe since that band of criminals has been camping out there."

"Not _those_ woods," Legolas rushed to say. "The other woods. The southern woods."

"Those _are_ the southern woods," Faramir stated, seemingly unsure of the himself.

"Well, if so," said Legolas tersely. "The ban on the area must have slipped my mind. I offer you my most sincere apologies, Aragorn. I hope you do not decide to arrest me."

The others among the group tittered, assumedly forgetting about Legolas's series of wavering excuses, and Aragorn cleared his throat.

"I might let this one slide," Aragorn shrugged. "If you ride with us."

Legolas began to nearly sweat as the others snickered at his dilemma, chiding him for his stupidity. Elves do not perspire, obviously, but if they could, Aragorn knew Legolas would have been reduced to a quivering puddle.

They locked eyes then, suddenly engaged in a battle of will. Aragorn took a strange pleasure in anticipating the discomforted Legolas's next move. Pushing his endless limits, doing what it took to wear him down. Humanizing Legolas was the only way to win his respect. You had to manage to beat him at a game his immortality made impossible. Fortunately, Aragorn had an influence on the elf prince that nobody else had. He intended to utilize it.

_It was the middle of the night. In celebration of his laws being past, Aragorn had treated himself to a glass of wine and indulged in a celebration of one. There was a momentary knock on the door as somebody asked for entrance. Aragorn was glad to have the company. _

"Alright," Legolas stammered with a shrug as though it was easy. "Of course, I'll ride with you."

The others all voiced their gladness at this, six men ogling Legolas as he wearily eyed the horse and calculated his ascent. Shifting his weight from side to side, Legolas winced only just, and Aragorn was certain he was the only one who noticed it. It was only then that Aragorn realized how much of a challenge he had actually presented to his elf friend.

The Mirkwood prince steeled himself against his sore limbs and hauled himself atop the animal, cringing noticeably as he rocked back in the saddle.

"Never seen you so uncomfortable on a horse, elf," taunted the dwarf.

"My muscles _are_ aching, Gimli," Legolas reminded him in a flat, monotone that still managed to chime like silver bells.

Gimli looked Legolas up and down, then cocked his head and bluntly stated, "Strange place to ache."

Faramir along with the hobbits laughed at Legolas's embarrassment as the men peeled one by one out the stables and took to the hills with fervor, soaring seamlessly over fields of lush green.

Aragorn kept a close eye on Legolas. They did like to play these unspoken games from time to time. These playful, _"how far can I push you?"_ amusements. And although it was always just honest fun, they were acutely aware of the others feelings, because neither really wanted to push the other that far.

_Aragorn was equipped with a drink that was a favorite of Legolas's when the elf had arrived. They soon found themselves a little bit tipsy and a little bit frisky, sprawled out by the fire with huge, adopted-orphan smiles pasted to their faces. _

The elf had never looked tenser to Aragorn, his milky skin stretched tight over his somber expression. The tightened jaw as they neared a bump or a log, the pained grimace as they finally reached it. His smarting legs were clenching and unclenching around the body of the horse, and Aragorn was exceedingly conscious of this subtle movement as they rode along.

All in all, the fellowship concluded that it had been great fun when they reached the lake, consenting to lie out in the sun and savor the moment for a little while.

Legolas took his sweet time dismounting, wearily gauging the burn in his thigh region as the others found places to bask in the glow of the sun.

"You must be really hurting, Legolas," commented Frodo worriedly. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," Legolas smiled pleasantly. "Like I said. Just weary from training yesterday."

"Do you need a hand, _mellon nin_?" Aragorn offered, reached upwards to aid Legolas. It was an out, they both knew it. By accepting Aragorn's help, Legolas was consenting to his loss.

The elf's muscles begged for him to take the deal and walk away from the game, bundling up the dignity he had left. However, the pride of Thandruil which pulsed through his veins forced him to smile coolly and pull away, saying, "Thank you, old friend. But I'll be fine."

Aragorn watched, very nearly disturbed by the amount of discomfort Legolas exhibited as he rolled to the ground. However, the king wasn't all too worried, knowing the injury would be sustained.

_They had engaged in a friendly argument over who was the strongest, and soon they were lazily rolling about the floor, throwing lethargic punches and laughing heartily. _

"What sort of exercise were you _doing_?" Faramir inquired with a flinch. "Its effects are cruel."

"The usual," Legolas answered as he floated to the ground. "Agility training, archery."

"And yet," Gimli pointed out suspiciously. "Your arms aren't sore."

Legolas appeared to be at a loss for an excuse, and Aragorn winced.

_"You were asking for that one,"_ the king thought towards the elf.

As though Legolas had read his thoughts, he shot a piercing glare in the king's direction, although he doubted anybody saw it.

Saving Legolas from imminent humiliation, Merry gave a groan nearby.

"What is it?" Sam asked, looking up at his fellow hobbit.

"I'm exhausted," Merry stated. "I can barely move."

"Rough night?" Aragorn inquired, shooting a sideways glance to a stiffened Legolas.

"I didn't sleep at all," Merry sighed. "What, with all the racket outside."

"What racket?" Frodo cocked his head. "I heard nothing."

"There was this endless series of moans and screams down the hall," Merry shrugged. "I haven't the foggiest what it was. But it kept me up all through the night."

_Legolas landed in a drunken heap on top of the king, laughing all the while, and suddenly Aragorn found himself intoxicated by the elf's honey scent._

The king and Legolas whipped towards each other, their eyes meeting in horror. Now, they were both doomed.

"Oh yes," recalled Merry with a finger tapping the cleft of his chin. "And there was this sick rocking sound, like something hitting the wall over and over.

_Passionate kisses were exchanged. Eyes darkened with lust._

"I wonder what that was," Pippin pondered aloud.

"Could have been anything," Gimli pointed out. "Maybe a nosy critter got into the walls somehow."

_The vicious removal of clothing. _

"The palace maids could have been working nearby," offered up Frodo. "When they beat out the rugs, that's awful loud. And you know how they love to gossip late into the night.

_Scrambling for the sheets._

"Or the cook may have been up late," Faramir suggested. "Those pots stir up quite an uproar when they clang together."

Legolas and Aragorn stared at each other, both of them feverishly trying to riddle out what the rocking sound might have been.

"I thought it might have been that visiting lady from Rohan," Merry shrugged. "She seems like the emotional kind; you know, she probably has reason to sob all through the night."

At that moment, Aragon's stomach seized. His eyes widened and he mouthed to Legolas, _"The bed."_

_ Amongst their heated groans, the rhythmic thump of Aragorn's bed hitting the wall thundered consistently in the background. _

Legolas nodded shallowly, a spark of recognition igniting in his eyes. Aragorn stared at the elf's distress and fought back the urge to snicker at the entire situation.

"Aragorn?" Merry snapped. "Did you hear me?"

"Oh, yes," Aragorn nodded rapidly. "I, too, think Lady Malynn is the emotional kind."

They all seemed to agree that she was the culprit.

_It had dragged on into the morning hours, neither of them willing to stop considering how electrifying it had been._

She had to be the source of the crazed screams and deafening clatter.

_When it was all said and done, they had clung to each other for the remainder of the night, cuddling close in the warm confines of the royal bed._

"Those noble women," Gimli started with an eye roll. "They're always flying off the handle. Back home, the women of the dwarf colonies would never waste their sleeping hours crying over nothing.

_And there was no awkwardness in their cherishing of each other afterwards, because it had not been the first time. In fact, the elf and the king had been engaged in this scandalous, illicit affair for awhile. They'd been indulged in similar relations every day for the past several months. And every night ended with, "I love you."_

"They sure as hell are going to spend it _sleeping_," drawled Gimli as though this was a blatantly obvious, universally known fact.

_But never had it been so fervent. So long. So hard._

Wordlessly, Aragorn reached out and intimately squeezed Legolas's hand, certain that none of the others were looking.

"You and your dwarf stories, Gimli," Frodo chuckled. "They make me wish I was a dwarf."

"Nay," Gimli shook his head. "You make a better hobbit."

Merri yawned loudly at that moment, and Legolas felt compelled to say, "I'm very sorry that this mysterious clamor has exhausted you so."

"And I'm sorry about your injuries," Merri stated kindly, and if an elf could blush, Legolas would have been flushed scarlet. "No matter. Whatever it was, I just hope it doesn't happen again."

When the conversation had turned to another topic of idle musings, Aragorn whispered softly to his lover, "It's definitely happening again."

"After today?" Legolas grit his teeth. "You'll be lucky if I ever come to your bed again."

"Tonight," Aragorn continued as though Legolas hadn't spoken. "After midnight in my chambers."

Legolas pretended to be mulling over a refusal, but they both knew he could never refuse. Neither of them could. They were clandestinely addicted to each other.

After a drawn out pause, Legolas finally swallowed hard and murmured, "_Quietly_, this time."

Aragorn chuckled soundlessly and whispered back, "I can be quiet, _mellon nin_. You, I'm not so sure about."

Another prime opportunity for Legolas to turn the shade of a rose.

"This is been nice," Frodo declared to the rest of the group, and they all merrily agreed.

"You know what?" Sam spoke up. "I think we should all start tomorrow with a ride as well."

Every member of the group raised their voices in concord, accept Legolas and Aragorn. Legolas, because he was mortified. Aragorn, because he was snickering.

"I think that's a brilliant idea," Aragorn clapped his hands, eliciting a string of cheers.

"They're going to catch us," Legolas insisted softly once everyone else had turned away and picked up another conversation. "Sooner or later they're going to put it all together, and then they'll _know_."

Aragorn shook his head with a happy sigh of contentment as he discreetly pressed a kiss to Legolas's cheek. Just barely grazing his lips.

"They'll never find out," he whispered.

**Author's Note: Yay friends! You have (hopefully) made it through my first ever fanfiction. Here's hoping you comment or favorite. If any of you request it, it would make a fun mini series. I'd happily work on a series of drabbles in which the fellowship very nearly catches Aragorn and Legolas in the midst of their...affection ;-) Let me know if you want any more!**


	2. The Game on the Morning After

**The companion fic to "A Ride the Morning After." In which it's been too long since Legolas and Aragorn made love, but with the fellowship lurking the corridors, it's been difficult to find a suitable place to "do it." Especially since our favorite elf prince is very picky when it comes to sex. The rating has been upped on this one. I might just be paranoid, but it might warrant the M.** **I hope you all enjoy :)**

The Game on the Morning After

They came soaring around the corner, a heated flurry of entwined bodies and breathless whimpers. Aragorn leading the charge as usual, pressing his elfin lover flush against the wall with a hiss. Their lips met then, tongues battling for dominance as their hands stroked the most intimate parts of each other's bodies, yearning for the other's touch.

Aragorn growled darkly against Legolas's rosy lips, a chuckle rolling through their tangled bodies as the king thought to himself, _"If only the people could see their ruler now."_

But he didn't really care that much, because the only desire of his mind, body, and soul (emphasis on the "body") was Legolas writhing underneath him. The stunning expression that fixed itself to Legolas's face when Aragorn, for lack of a more appropriate term, _fucked_ him was a sight that the king's weary heart sorely missed. That flawlessly twisted face of pure ecstasy was, perhaps, Aragorn's favorite thing about making love to Legolas. However, the king of Gondor wouldn't dare tell that to the elf, for Legolas would certainly try his hardest not to make that face after he knew. Not to displease Aragorn, merely because Legolas was sickened by the prospect of being considered so attractive.

However, with Faramir, Gimli, and the hobbits visiting Minas Tirith, it had become impossible for Aragorn to get Legolas alone. The last time Aragorn had touched his lover like this had been the night before what, henceforth, the pair had referred to as the "the incident," in which they were almost found out by Merry. After that, the blond was too mortified by the idea of being caught in the act to take any chances.

Which was much too bad because Aragorn fantasized about taking Legolas in broad daylight. Anywhere they could be seen. Even in a corridor of the king's palace.

"Oh, Aragorn," moaned Legolas pleasurably as the king ran his tongue along the elf's sweet spot, just behind the shell of his ear. _"Please."_

"Do I tease you, love?" Aragorn huffed. "Do I make you _crave_ it?"

"Stop," rasped Legolas from where he was, forced against the wall. Aragorn stifled a laugh. Legolas claimed not to like it when Aragorn talked dirty to him. However, the elf's body betrayed him.

"We shouldn't be doing this," Legolas said half heartedly. He didn't really want to stop. "This is the middle of the royal palace, for Valor's sake."

"You just don't like it because that painting of Isildur gives you the chills," Aragorn chuckled.

"_Look_ at him," Legolas protested, pointing at the life like portrait of Aragorn's ancestor hanging crookedly on the wall. "He has the eyes of an owl, combined with the beak of a hawk. I just don't like the idea of him staring at me, especially when my position is increasingly…compromising."

Legolas's hips thrust against the king's as Aragorn went on filthily, "I can feel how much you want me to have you. Do you want me to take you against this wall, my love? I think we're both to needy to take this to the bedroom."

"No," Legolas protested heatedly as Aragorn sucked the niche between his neck and his shoulder. "No bedroom. We do this now."

The prince of Mirkwood dutifully wrapped his long, elegant legs around Aragorn's waist, and clenched the king tightly between his powerful thighs.

"Make love to me now," Legolas whispered, his blue eyes flashing as he and Aragorn took a moment to gaze into each other's eyes.

"Your horse isn't going to get any exercise for a _week_," Aragorn swore, his hands moving to the elf's belt.

And at that very moment, Frodo Baggins came hobbling into the corridor, munching on a crisp apple and humming idly.

When he got an eye full of the king and the archer locked together the way they were, with fire in their eyes as they anticipated what was coming, Frodo nearly screamed.

"_What_ are you _doing_?" Frodo shrieked, recoiling from the sight. "It looks like you're…are you…"

It was like the hobbit had lit a fire between the pair of them the way they leapt apart.

"And that, Aragorn," Legolas puffed momentarily, his heart rate surging with anxiety, "Is how you pin an elf."

"Hmm," Aragorn hummed, propping his chin up on his palm. "That was an informative lesson, my friend. Thank you for agreeing to teach me."

"Your welcome," Legolas breathed shakily. "Just—don't use that technique against me."

They both laughed uncomfortably, staring passionately into each other's eyes as they were both still sex hungry. Frodo stared, baffled, as the king and he elf gazed at each other, both looking as though they were about the pounce on each other.

"That—uhm," the Halfling started, somewhat hesitantly. "Didn't look like a friendly training session."

"What did it look like then?" Aragorn turned and demanded. Legolas stiffened, horrified of what he might hear. That they were found out.

A choked sound emitted from Frodo's throat as he tried to make sense of what he had walked in on. As Legolas held his breath, Frodo finally shrugged, chuckling, "It doesn't matter. Just a trick of the light I suppose."

The elf scarcely continued to breathe.

"Well, those who walk this corridor are haunted by the eyes of Isildur," Aragorn pointed. "He's probably influenced your vision."

Frodo shuddered, "That painting is terrible, Aragorn."

The hobbit cast a final glance at the pair of them warily before he sauntered off, chiding, "You ought to take it down."

As Frodo Baggins disappeared into a side hallway, Legolas elicited a string of curse words Aragorn had never heard him utter.

"Darling," the king murmured, placing a hand on Legolas's shoulder. "You don't have to be upset."

"Don't you call me darling now, _darling_," Legolas steamed. "I feel _humiliated_."

"It's not that big of a deal," Aragorn said with an eye roll.

"Except it is because," Legolas turned towards the king and went on, "I want you. Badly. And we can never find a quiet place to just…"

"I know," Aragorn smiled softly. "We'll make it work. We've always made it work before."

"How?" demanded Legolas. "Where?"

"The stables?"

"I will _not_ be _had_ before the eyes of _horses_."

"Fine. How about the gardens?"

"Right. Where visiting dignitaries loiter about all day."

"Right, right. What about the dungeons?"

"I don't wish to associate being made love to with the sexual relations that occur in the _dungeons_."

"Alright, Legolas," Aragorn sighed, the prickle of frustration arising on his skin. "Where do you want to go?"

The elf bit his lip, allowing himself to be cradled by Aragorn's outstretched arms.

"Somewhere far away," he admitted. "I wish we could just go away on our own."

"Someday, my love," the king of men promised. "Someday I'll take you far away from here."

"But what in the meantime?" Legolas inquired as he released himself from the grip of his king. "I don't want to wait any longer."

"In the meantime we shall play it by ear," Aragorn answered. "I know how you feel. I can barely look at you without wanting to do you then and there."

"Well, then I'd better leave now," grunted Legolas. "I don't want to be under the gaze of Isildur any longer. He makes me feel as though I've done something wrong."

"We'll figure out a way, _mellon nin_," Aragorn stated promptly as Legolas started to amble away.

"It's going to be hell trying to riddle this out, Aragorn," the elf fumed. "People are everywhere."

"Let's make a game out of it then," offered the king. "That might make waiting more pleasurable."

The corners of the prince's mouth twisted upwards into a cunning smile.

"I'm interested," Legolas hummed. "Enlighten me on the details of this game."

"Whichever one of us finds me a proper place to ravish you will be declared the winner," Aragorn stated, to Legolas's embarrassment.

"Fine," the elf consented. "What are the rules?"

"The space has to be comfortable, available, and private," Aragorn clarified. "It has to be within Gondor's border as well."

"And what does the winner get?" Legolas raised an eyebrow curiously.

"The winner gets to control the other in the bedroom for a night," Aragorn replied cheerily after a moment.

"It's a deal," Legolas murmured mischievously as the two men shook hands. "I have one more condition, however. This handshake is the only physical contact we will have with each other for the duration of the game."

"Why would you do that?" Aragorn groaned. "You were expressing five minutes ago how badly you wanted me."

"It raises the stakes," Legolas answered. "And besides, when I win, I'll make sure it was worth your wait."

"You won't win, my cherry blossom," Aragorn husked, grazing Legolas's cheek with the pads of his fingers. "I know this castle better than you do."

"Perhaps," Legolas murmured. "But I have more incentive than you do. I want it more."

Seductively, Legolas let his hand wander between his legs for a fleeting moment, before he turned and strode away with a grin on his lips.

Aragorn watched, his mouth agape, as the most desirable creature in Middle Earth skipped in the other direction, and his mind was already spinning.

The son of Arathorn didn't lose either. He played to win. Ruthless, precise, and calculated until no man was left standing. Aragorn wasn't going to hesitate to take Legolas prisoner. If only the poor, innocent elf knew how deeply in trouble he was.

But it was too late for Legolas to surrender. And the games had already begun.

**A/N: Woohoo! So does anybody like this new plot? Anybody up for thirds? Comment, favorite, follow!**


	3. Frodo Plays Along

**In which Legolas and Aragorn proceed with their filthy little game, but not without a difficulty. A hobbit-sized difficulty, that is. :) Enjoy! **

Frodo Plays Along

Frodo was suspicious. How could he not be, with the image of Aragorn and Legolas tangled together in the searing heat of passion permanently etched into his brain? He may have been short, but not short of wit, and so he had merely pretended to believe the flimsy excuse that his two dear friends had fed to him. Did he believe it? Absolutely not. A friendly sparring practice never induces the lusty, obsessive gaze that had haunted the faces of his friends. The aforementioned gaze, along with the fact that their bodies had practically melted into one another, was what led Frodo to believe that Aragorn and Legolas were, what they would call back home in the Shire "cavorting."

Frodo Baggins had never "cavorted." Nor had he ever dreamed of doing so with another man, however, if he absolutely had to, he would probably choose to do so with Legolas.

The hobbit's eyes spotted the elfin prince meters away, mingling among visiting dignitaries who were in town for the king's ball. His limber muscles wrapped up in shimmering silver robes and his flaxen tresses tumbling carelessly down his back, Legolas was undoubtedly the most highly coveted man in the room. Frodo had noticed at least eighteen women and fourteen men giving him a flirtatious glance or two. And judging by the way his skin glowed in the pale moonlight, the stunning elf certainly deserved the attention. He like a walking, talking, immortal shooting star; all lustrous limbs and beaming grins and shimmering sapphire eyes.

Putting everything in perspective, Frodo could faintly see the appeal of Aragorn as well. He was shadowy, rugged; calloused hands and untamable waves of dark hair. With perfectly knotted muscles and a winning personality, Aragorn embodied nobility and dignity. On top of all this, he was the most powerful man in Middle Earth, which had appeal in itself.

The elf and the king symbolized day and night. Push and pull. They had always been best friends, and had been presented with plenty of opportunities to bond in the intimate setting of fighting side by side. Furthermore, Frodo had noted that Legolas had been staying in Minas Tirith for months before the rest of the fellowship arrived, under the guise of helping Aragorn settle in. However, that must have been another lie. Legolas didn't go home to Mirkwood because he was addicted to "cavorting" with the king of men, and they had to keep that discreet. Although, Frodo simply didn't understand why they couldn't have casually revealed their relationship to the fellowship at least. Had either of them ever thought, "Oh. The Fellowship of the Ring is composed of our closest friends! Now that we are cavorting, we should certainly let them in on our dirty little secret!"

But Frodo couldn't go telling on them now, despite how much the fellowship needed to know the honest truth. Without hard evidence, none of the others would have the faith to believe such an outlandish rumor, and neither Aragorn nor Legolas would back him up on it.

No, Frodo needed to bide his time. He needed to catch them in the act of cavorting, and then neither of them would be able to deny the facts! It was simply a matter of waiting until they slipped away to be together, which wouldn't be long, based on how badly they seemed to crave one another, and then—BANG! Frodo would be the wiser.

Bitterly sipping his drink, Frodo Baggins determined he would attain revenge for the betrayal of Aragorn and Legolas, by forcing them to tell him the truth. And he would do it before the week was up. The hobbit would not stand being lied to.

While idling about near the refreshments table, Legolas Greenleaf watched his lover gazing at him out of the corner of his eye. Aragorn was struggling to peel his eyes away from the elf as Legolas sauntered aimlessly back and forth, his hips stirring seductively. The elf beckoned the king to join him for a drink with sultry eyes, and after several seconds of deliberation, Aragorn decided he could not refuse.

"That's a lovely story, Lady Malynn," Aragorn chortled. "But could you excuse me for just a moment? I need to refill my cup."

Without waiting for a response from the noblewoman, Aragorn strode purposefully to the spread of delicacies and sidled up to the elf.

"Good evening," murmured Legolas in an enticing murmur, scarcely meeting the king's eyes.

"Indeed," husked Aragorn as he traced Legolas's pacing steps. "Are you enjoying the party?"

"Of course, my lord," Legolas answered courteously.

"My lord," Aragorn repeated with a quirked eyebrow. "I don't know if you have ever referred to me as such before."

"Well, we are in front of your people," Legolas's eyes met those of the king. "I hardly think this is the place for me to address you as—any of the _other_ pet names I have for you."

Aragorn chuckled, low and deep in his throat as he whispered, "Nobody is within earshot. Say whatever it is you need to say."

"I dare not," Legolas protested. "Have you forgotten about our little wager already?"

"Of course I haven't," Aragorn rasped temptingly and the elf's leggings seemed to grow a little bit tighter at the sound. "In fact, I believe I have nearly won."

At that, Legolas was shocked.

"You haven't," he shook his head vehemently. "You couldn't have."

"You seem so upset by this, _mellon nin_," Aragorn laughed gently, their foreheads millimeters apart. "Don't you want me just as badly as I want you?"

The elf felt himself growing increasingly flustered as the seconds passed.

"Of course I do," Legolas answered nervously. "I just don't want to lose."

"You haven't lost yet, my love," Aragorn reminded him. "Not until tonight."

The retort that had formed on Legolas's tongue dissolved. His throat clenched as he found himself inquiring weakly, "What happens tonight?"

Aragorn took a half step forward so that he could whisper invitingly into the elf's perfectly pointed ear, "Tonight, I will come to your chamber, whisk you away to my secret place, and fuck you until there is no doubt in your pretty little mind that I am the winner of our game."

Legolas was rendered speechless, which was very rare for the elf who was always equipped with a biting comeback, and Aragorn took this as a cue to keep going.

"I will _pound_ the realization that I have won into your brain," Aragorn whispered, almost sweetly. "And tomorrow night, I will return to your chambers, and claim my reward. Which you will give me willingly."

"You're very confident that you've found the perfect spot," Legolas stated feebly.

"Don't fret too much over your eminent loss," Aragorn shrugged, pulling away. "You're going to enjoy this just as much as I am."

Legolas nodded shallowly, utterly baffled as he watched Aragorn leave. Suddenly, a spark of electricity lit ignited behind his ocean blue eyes and he heard himself snapping, "You haven't won the game yet!"

Aragorn whirled back around with a small shrug before he smiled and whispered, "I love you."

Fortunately for the elf and the man, this last proclamation of affection went unheard by Frodo who was lurking nearby, and he barely caught the end of the exchange.

"_A game,"_ thought the hobbit to himself as he cocked his head. _"What sort of a game? And when will it be played? These are the questions that must be answered."_

Fortunately yet again, Frodo Baggins had scuttled off to plot before Legolas mouthed back, _"I love you too."_

Long after the last of Minas Tirith's guests had trickled out of the great hall, Legolas found himself floating about his room in a bit of a panic. He had paced in front of the mirror for hours, braiding and then rebraiding his hair, only to braid it and then rebraid it again. Legolas was always self conscious when it came to sleeping with Aragorn. He didn't care much for looks otherwise, however, when the king's eyes were hungrily observing Legolas's naked body during their secret, romantic meetings, it always occurred to the elf that he could have done something differently. He should have applied more lotion to smooth his battle-scarred skin. He should have done a better job perfecting his hair. He should have prepped himself to be made love to. He should try harder not to resemble a frightened animal as Aragorn advanced on him.

The elf loved having sex with the king, almost as much as he loved Aragorn himself. However, there was always a little voice in the back of his head that muttered, "God, you look like hell itself today. Why can't you just be as beautiful as Aragorn thinks you are?"

Not knowing when Aragorn was going pounce on him always eased the elf's pain. He could then justify his hideousness with the usual, "If you had only known that you were going to see Aragorn today, then you could have better prepared yourself. He knows that, too."

However, after the king explicitly spelled out what he was going to do to the elf at the ball, Legolas had no excuse for being unwary. He knew exactly what was coming; he was going to be _pounded_.

As Legolas's pacing wasted away the hours, the moon rose to its peak in the sky and then began to set again, and the elfin prince figured it was probably closer to four in the morning than three. A wave of relief combined with a prickle of disappointment played with Legolas's stability as he decided that instead of waiting around for a king that clearly had gotten held up and wasn't coming, he was going to take a bath.

It took time to boil enough water to fill the tub, and by the time Legolas was finished, he figured that he deserved a long sit in the hot water.

The sizzle of the water tickled his bare skin as he undressed and clambered into the tub, closing his eyes complacently and determining not to worry about Aragorn. He was simply busy, and so Legolas still had time to figure a way to win their little game.

He had probably been humming to himself as he soaked in the soothing bath for twenty minutes before he was startled by another form slipping into the tub behind him.

Just as Legolas opened his mouth to scream, a pair of all too familiar lips buried themselves in his neck.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, my sweet," came the voice of Aragorn. "Something came up."

"Something so important that you couldn't have at least warned me?" Legolas quipped frustration coloring his tone. "I thought you had forgotten."

"Forgotten?" Aragorn exclaimed, his erection pressing against the small of Legolas's back. "I was thinking of you the entire time."

At that, the elf whipped around the face Aragorn, pressing their chests together as he devoured the king's lips. They contented themselves to heated kissing, their mouths flawlessly molded to each other's, for several minutes before Aragorn pulled away.

"Come, I want to take you away from here, and end our game," the king stated promptly.

"No," Legolas whined breathlessly, grasping Aragorn's shoulders as the man attempted to get out of the bath. "I can't wait. Just take me here."

"Gladly, my love," Aragorn shrugged. "But just three days ago, you insisted I couldn't have you in your chambers, because Pippin's room is right next door."

Legolas's eyes flickered towards the thin wall of the bath chamber and realized that they would not be unheard.

"If you can wait for a few more minutes," Aragorn promised. "I'll take you somewhere private and comfortable, where you can thoroughly enjoy it."

"I'd enjoy you anywhere, you know," Legolas reminded him.

"While it lasts," Aragorn chided. "But when we were found out, you would hate me for forcing myself upon you."

Legolas chuckled, "Fine. Let me get dressed, and we can go."

"Why do you need to get dressed?" Aragorn teased and Legolas climbed gracefully out of the tub.

Slightly embarrassed, Legolas shook his head and covered himself with a towel as the king chuckled.

Strong arms coiled tightly around Legolas's waist and held him completely still at that moment. The man's finger lifted the elfin prince's chin so that they were both gazing at their reflections in the mirror.

"You are so beautiful," Aragorn promised. "You needn't try so hard to hide it."

A swell of affection for his human lover rushing into his chest, Legolas grinned against Aragorn's lips.

"Let's get dressed," Legolas insisted regardless. "So that once we reach your mysterious place, we can undress each other all other again.

"Gladly," Aragorn said in an alluring, rolling grumble. "I'm ready to earn my reward."

**(A/N): Goodness gracious! How time flies! My deepest apologies for not updating sooner! Things have been quite busy as of late! Thanks so much for all of the positive feedback, and I swear that I will try to be a better writer and post more! Yay!**


	4. The Game Continues!

**In which Aragorn is needy, but Legolas has already taken care of business. Teehee. Enjoy!**

**Warning: Brief mention of bondage. I hope it doesn't offend anybody!**

The Game Continues

The whisper of gentle footfalls on marble floor roused a spark of life from a sleeping Frodo, and he leapt to unsteady feet with a shudder. His keen ears perked up and listened carefully to the sound, trying to riddle out who it was, and from where they came.

"You mustn't keep secrets from me," a silken voice was whining. "Tell me where we're going!"

"I wouldn't dare spoil the surprise," another, slightly huskier voice, responded. "You love surprises."

In a panic as Legolas and Aragorn drew closer, Frodo gathered himself up and scurried to hide behind a nearby pillar. He pressed himself up again the cool stone and watched from the corner of his eye as the elf and the king fluttered down the corridor in a fit of giggles and turned, whilst huddling close together, onto the stairwell.

Smirking gleefully at the ease of spying, the hobbit shimmied down the hall after them, crouching close to the ground.

"Give me a clue then," the elf begged. "The suspense is killing me."

"Sure," Aragorn shrugged thoughtfully. "I'm taking you to the one place in the palace that glows even in the dark of night. Think on that."

Legolas didn't seem to recall such a place, however, Frodo certainly did. The royal gardens boasted a spectacular glass exterior, and they rested in the opportune location to catch the moonlight at night. The Halfling quickly weighed his odds, and decided momentarily that if he wound around the castle the long way at a dead run, he could find a proper hiding place in the garden before they arrived. Sprinting into the shadows, Frodo let the light envelope his form and vanished into the hallowed halls of Minas Tirith.

The pale of the moon dripped through the sky light in shimmering pools, grazing their illuminating fingers over the gardens. Flowers tilted shyly towards the light, their petals winking in the nighttime draft. It was toasty warm inside the room encased by glass, and Legolas was warm tucked under Aragorn's arm as they strolled inside.

"The garden," Legolas breathed, a smile playing at his full lips. "Of course, it is your favorite place in the palace. You know, I did advise against the gardens when we began this game."

"You said it was forbidden because it is always crowded in the day time hours. However it's ideal for love making at night, _mellon nin_. Look around? Secluded, check," Aragorn stated smugly, "Comfortable, check."

"Comfortable?" Legolas quirked an eyebrow. He scuffled his boots against the tile path that laced the flower beds. "I see no comfort in this dirt and stone. Unless you want to crush all of your flowers—"

Aragorn hushed his lover with an index finger pressed against elfin lips, and the king ushered Mirkwood's prince deep into the maze of daffodils where a cloud of pillows and blankets was mashed together and ringed by lit candles.

Legolas sighed, breathless, "You did all this?"

"And don't think it was easy, either," Aragorn whispered. "Getting all of this down here without anybody seeing me. It was all for you."

Legolas relaxed into Aragorn's soothing grip, "You didn't have to do all this for me."

"Don't worry about a thing," Aragorn grinned before he took the tie to Legolas's cloak between his teeth and made to undo it. "It's going to be worth it."

But just before Legolas moaned quietly in content, he was force to swallow it with a start as a sneeze sounded behind them. Aragorn stiffened as he withdrew, one hand instinctively settling on his hip as though he were reaching for the hilt of his sword.

"Did you hear that?" he hissed.

Legolas nodded, grimacing disappointedly, "I heard it."

Aragorn moved with catlike grace towards the source of the sound as another sneeze floated to their ears. With a fiery anger in his eyes, the king tore away the trespasser's cover, which happened to be a berry bush, and stared down at Frodo Baggins.

"Oh, Aragorn!" Frodo blushed just before he sneezed again. "Fancy seeing you down here at this time of night!"

"Yes," Aragorn growled. "What brings you to the garden at this hour?"

Frodo raised his eyebrows innocently, "Can't a hobbit enjoy the beauty of flowers at nighttime?"

"Exactly what we were thinking, my friend," Legolas piped up, looking to Aragorn for aid. "Why not relish in the beauty of nature at such a late hour?"

"Why not?" repeated Frodo as they both laughed uncomfortably. The hobbit rose from his crouch and looked suspiciously at Aragorn's lavish spread of bedding and candles nearby.

"What is all of this, though?" he inquired. "Rather romantic. Have either you…met somebody?"

Aragorn and Legolas erupted into protests and awkward excuses, gesturing wildly with their hands.

"Met somebody? Ha!" Aragorn scoffed.

"Like who? What decent bedfellows are there to be had?" shrugged Legolas.

"All of the worthwhile ones have been taken, am I right?"

"Right you are. And who needs a partner anyway?"

"Nobody, my good man! We're both independent, and we enjoy it!"

"A lover would completely destroy my routine."

"We have no time to deviate from routine!"

"They would rob us of our freedom!"

"Our manhood!"

"Our youth!"

"Our identities!"

"I say, I'm never taking a lover!"

"Indeed, me neither!"

Out of breath and nonsense to utter, they both stood still and waited for Frodo to react.

"Alright," Frodo cocked his head, recognizing bullshit when he heard it. "Then what's with the candles?"

After a brief pause, Legolas and Aragorn peered at each other before they hurried to explain the meaning of aforementioned candles.

"Well, I've taken a lover," Aragorn replied, and Legolas gaped at him like a fool. "She's a visiting noblewoman."

"Yes," Legolas finally found the words to say. "He's the one with the lover."

Frodo swallowed the urge to call them on their bluff, and shrugged, "Well, why didn't you say so?"

"He didn't…" Legolas faltered. "He didn't want anybody to know yet."

"It's discreet," Aragorn confessed.

"She's married?" Frodo winked knowingly, although the other two had no idea just how much he knew.

"She's—unavailable," Aragorn said.

"You're a lucky man," Frodo grinned, and the other two had to return the gesture. "Which one is it? Lady Jessalyn?"

"No, not her."

"Lady Grace?"

"Oh no, not her."

"Lady Hazel?"

"Yes, that's the one," Aragorn finally gave in, and Legolas clapped him on the back.

"She's very beautiful, my friend friend," the elf nodded.

"Lady Hazel is the rather—well, _large_ one. Isn't she?" Frodo winced.

The king and the elf both wished for a fleeting moment that they would drop dead and be buried with their shame.

"She's not large," Legolas tried to say. "She's…_rounded_."

"Rounded," Aragorn repeated dignifiedly. "Yes."

"Anyway, Aragorn is meeting her here later, and he asked me to come and approve of his romantic gesture," Legolas said softly. He went on in complete honestly, "And I did. It's very beautiful, and thoughtful. She's going to really enjoy it."

"Thank you, Legolas," Aragorn said sadly. "Now, I believe it's high time we all go our separate ways."

"If you don't mind, my friends," Legolas murmured. "I'll just slip out the back. I'd like some fresh air."

"I'll join you," Aragorn offered.

"No, no," Legolas declined with a wave of his hand. "I think I've had enough socializing for one day. I need to spend some time alone. And you, Aragorn, need rest."

Legolas floated to the glass door which opened into the fields.

"Gentlemen," he nodded. Then he headed on his way.

Aragorn watched him go longingly, his eyes momentarily finding their way to the stunning make shift bed which he had envisioned making love to Legolas upon all day.

A rush of fury at the horrible coincidence which had befallen the two lovers surging through his veins, Aragorn grit his teeth, bid good night to Frodo and stormed towards his chamber.

The hobbit, left alone in the quiet, stomped his foot against the marble, irritated. He had almost been too close for comfort, standing between the elf, the man, the bed which was so evidently constructed for Legolas to be fucked upon. The truth had been within his grasp! Then he knew that his chances of catching them that night were null.

If only he hadn't been allergic to the berry bushes.

The following day, the king of Gondor held a council meeting over breakfast consisting of his most trusted advisors and generals. Legolas, best friend of the saffron, was expected to be present. So it was not unusual when the elf showed up precisely on the hour and took his place at Aragorn's right hand. However, the obvious tensions which stretched taut between them did not go unnoticed.

"Of course, my lord, we need to send more patrols to the southern territory where the nomads prove to be the greatest threat," remarked the chief general.

"I agree; the south is entirely unsafe" Aragorn nodded. The sentence that formed on his throat dissolved in the next moment; however, as from the corner of his eye, he spotted Legolas, his perfect rosy lips wrapped around a strawberry.

"Uhm," the king struggled to speak as the elf's eyes met his, and Legolas's tongue swirled scrumptiously along the most seductive fruit known to civilization. The tip of the prince's pink tongue barely flicked along the edge of the strawberry, and Aragorn winced as Legolas dipped the fruit in it's entirely back into the depths of his hot, wet mouth. "I also think that—erm—the western battalions are probably in need of respite. They've—uhm—they've been on duty for too long and they…deserve to—uh—come home."

"You alright there, Aragorn?" Gimli chuckled. "You seem to have forgotten how to speak."

The men around the table chuckled, and even the corners of Legolas's lips turned up around the strawberry they were sucking.

"I'm fine," Aragorn grunted, blushing. "What say you to this proposal, general?"

The general droned on about sparing his soldiers as Aragorn focused his every ounce of attention on not watching his elfin lover, and not imagining that it was his own tongue, instead of the strawberry, between Legolas's lips.

"I can't just replace an entire legion of men with another, perfectly suitable one," the general was saying. "The west is valuable territory, therefore, the best men are guarding it. We don't have enough soldiers to supplant them as it is. Don't you see my point, sire?"

"I see your point general. But the men in the west are…they are…" Aragorn lost all willpower as Legolas bit off a generous chunk of strawberry and licked his lips alluring. "So fucking delicious."

There was a stunned chorus of gasps around the table, and they all leaned forward and stared as if they had misheard him.

"My lord?" the general raised an eyebrow, red in the face. "They are…what?"

Legolas's expression was completely neutral as the elf struggled with how to react, and Aragorn stuttered, "Tired. I said they're…so fucking tired. They need relief. As soon as possible. I don't care who you send. Just bring those men home to their families. Council adjourned. You're all dismissed."

The men around the table, were still, baffled by what they had heard, and Aragorn had to exclaim, "Are you all deaf? I said _dismissed_!"

There was a clatter as every man hurried from the chamber, hasty to escape the king's rage. All except for a certain elf who predictably stayed behind.

"You're driving me insane, _mellon nin_," Aragorn rasped, leaning heavily against the table as he stood up.

"I'm at my wit's end as well," Legolas admitted, resting against the round table beside his lover.

"What are we going to do?" Aragorn snarled. "One of us has to end this game. Immediately."

"I'm aware," Legolas nodded. "Which is why whilst I was walking last night, I was searching for a place which we could take refuge in."

"And?" Aragorn pleaded with his eyes for good news.

"And I found one," Legolas stated in a sultry voice.

A grin slowly overtook Aragorn's weary features, and he laughed low in his throat, "Where is it?"

"It's a surprise," Legolas winked.

The elf turned to leave the room before Aragorn grabbed his wrist and pulled him back in.

"Why don't you tell where it is," the king said. "Then I'll take you there, and I can win."

"Why would I ever do that?" Legolas dared with an eye roll.

"You'd like it much better if I won," Aragorn promised. "I'm better at being in charge."

"You are the king," Legolas consented.

"Do you want to hear what I would do to you if I won?"

"Not particularly."

"I'm going to tell you anyway," Aragorn licked the shell of Legolas's ear. "I would bind your hands to the nearest feasible object while I fucked you."

Legolas purred as his lover continued, "We both know how much you like that."

"Not as much as you like it when I _ride_ you," Legolas whispered. "And I'd blind fold you as well, so you'll be forced to see with your hands…"

The elf allowed his hand to ghost over Aragorn's erection, causing the king to shudder. "…and with _this_."

Aragorn finally sighed, "Maybe it would be alright if you won."

Legolas giggled as he withdrew, reminding Aragorn that they had promised to keep their hands off of each other until the end of the game.

"Tonight," Legolas hummed as he sauntered slowly towards the door. "At midnight. Meet me at the pavilion. We'll walk from there."

Aragorn's eyes followed the firm curves of Legolas's ass as the elf pranced away, and the king groaned, "This is torture, Legolas. How do you do it?"

"I have elfin stamina," Legolas shrugged with a smirk.

"Surely elves are just as sexually driven as men," Aragorn shook his head.

"Of course we are," nodded the prince.

"Then how do you do it?" Aragorn repeated.

"Well, whilst I was on my walk last night, I missed you," Legolas started shamelessly. "So I resorted to pleasuring myself."

"Cheating," Aragorn yelped. "I've been saving myself for you!"

"I was thinking of you when I did it," Legolas offered.

"You better have been," Aragorn grimaced.

"Don't worry," Legolas stated. "Elves do have remarkable stamina. I could pleasure myself a thousand times, and it wouldn't at all inhibit my ability to pleasure you."

"It won't be as good for you," Aragorn warned.

"It will," Legolas's voice dropped to a seductive whisper as he responded, "I always cum harder when I'm making love with you."

Aragorn nearly fainted.

**(A/N): The next chapter will be up tomorrow (I pinky swear) and *SPOILER ALERT* in the next chapter, the game will end! Interpret that as you will! AND THERE WILL BE ACTUAL SEX! LEMONS! Bye friends! **


	5. Draws to a Close

**In which Legolas and Aragorn have sex. That is all.**

Draws to a Close

Aragorn and Legolas were not alone on the pavilion.

Therefore, Aragorn's wind burned lips pecking Legolas's cheek did not go unseen. However, Frodo Baggins decided to give them the benefit of the doubt, and so he chalked it all up to an extra friendly greeting and remained motionless in the dark.

When the pair of lover descended into the gloom, Frodo was their shadow, trailing seamlessly behind them without a sound. He was not going to be careless this time around. He was going to behave diligently and play everything by ear. A regular spy of the Shire, his mission to uncover whether or not his two dear friends were indeed "cavorting."

And he was most certainly not going to sneeze.

They trekked for what felt like miles through the trees. The only sounds were the occasional titter from the elf or the king, the only light was that of the moon far overhead. After a long while of ambling, Frodo had developed a mind to turn and go back, for he was frightened by the perils of the woods at night, and despised the idea of a painful death at the hands of a woodland beast.

Just when he was about to throw hope to the wind, Legolas finally beckoned his king with a flick of his finger into a small ravine, in which rested a hot spring.

"Impossible," Aragorn breathed in awe as he took in the magnificent glowing water. "This is enchanted water."

"The elves used to know of many such blessed springs," Legolas explained as he threaded their fingers together. "There are few in existence now."

"This is the place?" Aragorn husked as he pressed himself closer to the elfin prince.

"Does it not meet your expectations?" Legolas murmured alluringly as he led the man towards the glittering spring.

"It is beyond my expectations," Aragorn sighed, "However, is it safe?"

Legolas released Aragorn's hand at the edge of the spring, leaving the king to watch as he ambled over to the opposite side.

"More than safe," the elf said silkily. "Some say it has romantic properties."

"What can I say?" Aragorn replied, his voice a gruff rumble. "You win, Legolas Greenleaf."

"Not yet," Legolas murmured. "Not until we are both completely satisfied."

Frodo gawked in awe as Legolas soundlessly removed all clothing which had blocked his upper body from view, revealing a smooth, alabaster plane of sparkling muscles. Aragorn followed in turn, flexing his abs, which resembled a braid of tightly knotted rope, as he stood before his lover shirtless.

The hobbit was unsure of what to do. He hadn't enough evidence to leap from his sparse covering of foliage and call them on all of their lies, but he dare not let them continue. His heart skipped a beat as Legolas reached to free himself of his leggings, when suddenly, two firm hands were against Frodo's back.

"Ah ha!" Gimli screamed as he shoved the hobbit into the open air, eliciting a baffled shriek from the smaller man. "Scared you, didn't I? Didn't I?"

Legolas and Aragorn stared at each other, petrified with shock and fear, and struggled desperately to speak.

"What are you two doing all the way out here?" Aragorn finally inquired shrilly, clearly more than furious.

"What am I doing out here?" Gimli chortled. "I followed this one out here."

He pointed one meaty finger at Frodo who remained motionless, and Gimli continued, "I saw him coming out into these woods, and figured I'd follow, give him a scare. Dwarves are known for their stealth."

"Frodo, you came all the way out here?" Legolas narrowed his eyes. "Alone? For what reason?"

"Fresh air?" peeped Frodo, fearing that he was caught.

"And Gimli you found him," Aragorn started, gesturing towards the trees, "just there?"

"He was just crouched down over yonder," Gimli shrugged, and Frodo stiffened. The dwarf clapped Frodo's shoulder, "A bit suspicious, old friend."

"Yes," Legolas ground out. "Funny how you keep turning up, Frodo. Wherever Aragorn and I are, in the middle of the night."

"Out here, in the gardens," Aragorn said slowly, piecing all of the mismatched facts together. "And it all started that day in the corridor, in front of Isildur's painting."

"Suspicious," Legolas intoned, a pang of worry speeding his heart rate.

"_Very_ suspicious," Aragorn added.

"Am I missing something here?" Gimli chuckled in an attempt to diffuse the tension.

"Not at all," Aragorn forced a smile, shaking Gimli's shoulder fondly. "Why don't Legolas and I dress, and we'll all just head back to the castle. What say you, Legolas?"

They exchanged somber gazes and Legolas nodded sadly, "That's for the best."

The foursome meandered back to Minas Tirith in relative quiet, Frodo marching far ahead with the fiery eyes of a king and an elf on his back, and Gimli merrily offering tidbits of dwarf history to lighten the mood.

Legolas and Aragorn decided to sleep together in the king's chamber, however, for fear of waking Merry, they did not make love. And it was torturous.

"He knows!" cried Legolas bitterly, pacing back and forth across the throne room in fury. "Frodo obviously knows!"

"The evidence is substantial," admitted Aragorn from his place reclined in the king's chair. Legolas shrieked in ire.

"But what are we to do about it, my love?" Aragorn sighed. "We cannot approach him about it, for fear of giving away what he may not already know. And Frodo is innocent, Legolas, you know that. He isn't about to go running his mouth."

"I can't stand the idea of anybody knowing," Legolas snapped. "People are so unpredictable. Who knows what he'll say, even if it is accidental?"

"We're talking about _Frodo_," Aragorn rolled his eyes. "He's more honest than most."

Exhausted by his rigorous pacing, Legolas collapsed at Aragorn's feet, burying his face in his hands.

"This is horrible," the elf moaned, the sound muffled by his sleeves.

The king bent over to stroke Legolas's golden hair lovingly and purr, "Don't worry, darling. We'll take for of it. Right now you need to calm down; the fellowship will be here any minute."

Legolas collected himself just in time for Faramir and Gimli to wander in with broad smiles on their faces. The food was delivered shortly after as Faramir roused a fire in the hearth, and the three hobbits stumbled into the throne room momentarily.

"So then what did you do?" Merry was asking as the desserts were being devoured.

"What do you think I did?" Gimli roared drunkenly. "I grabbed my axe and chopped my way out of there."

The men around the table laughed heartily.

"That 's the last time I visit my great aunt Bertha," the dwarf pounded his fists against the table, much to the agreement of the others. Being among friends had lifted Legolas's spirits, and even he had to smile.

Beneath the table, the king and elf reached for each other's hands.

"I'm thinking that tomorrow we should all go for a ride," Pippin offered. "It's sort of become an end of the week tradition."

"Sure," Legolas said brightly. "That sounds like fun."

"Legolas," Faramir chuckled. "I would venture to say that in the past, you have seemed to most opposed to our morning rides."

"Why would I be opposed to spending time with my dearest friends?" Legolas raised his glass.

As they all toasted each other, Aragorn leaned in and whispered, "Also, this time around your ass won't be so sore."

"Hush," Legolas hissed as he struggled to keep his expression neutral, and Aragorn laughed quietly.

"My lord," exclaimed a sentry as he thundered into the throne room. "I have been asked to inform you that Gandalf the White has arrived. Our lookouts have spotted him, riding into Minas Tirith at the gate."

Aragorn leapt to his feet, "Gandalf? But he said he wasn't coming; he was caught up with the ents in Fangorn forest, and couldn't possibly leave."

"It appears his plans have changed!" cried Frodo with a bright smile on his face, and the rest of the fellowship cheered.

"We must go down and meet him at the gate!" Merry suggested.

"But, of course!" Faramir was already halfway to the door. "Let's go, with haste!"

The fellowship of the ring disappeared from the throne room and hurried towards the gate. All except the king and the elf, who lingered on.

"Come, let's go and meet Gandalf," Legolas said as he strode towards the door.

However, a strong hand on his wrist drew him up short, and he turned around to face Aragorn's heated gaze.

"What is it?" Legolas murmured.

"They're all gone," Aragorn murmured darkly, inching closer to the elf. "They won't be back for awhile."

Legolas's eyes widened and he moved to refuse but found he couldn't.

"Here?" the prince breathed, baffled and Aragorn's arm wrapped around his slim waist. "But—who wins the game, then?"

"We both win," Aragorn cooed, and a sly smile played at Legolas's lips. "What do you say?"

The elf barely had time to say "yes" before the king had scooped him up into strong arms and carried him to lie beside the fire.

Clumsy, fast moving hands, ripped Legolas's clothes from his shivering form, and once they had all been discarded, the elf sprawled out across the marble floor, his naked body illuminated by the blazes in the hearth. The elf watched as his lover struggled to remove his own pestering clothes, Aragorn's lust clouded brain finding it difficult to perform regular functions. The elf looked so delicious stretched out in all of his naked glory before him, and Aragorn couldn't wait to take what was his.

The king claimed the elf's waiting lips in a needy kiss, and their tongues desperately battled for dominance. Legolas's hands were clasped around Aragorn's neck, as the king pinched one of the elf's sensitive nipples, playing with the perked mount of flesh until Legolas moaned.

Smirking, Aragorn pulled himself away from Legolas's mouth, much to the elf's dismay, and slithered down to take the prince's second nipple between his teeth.

He bit down on the tender nub, and Legolas's hips jerked forward, begging for more. Oh, Aragorn planned to give him _more_.

An animalistic groan was ripped from the elf's throat as Aragorn ceased his ministrations, and next thing Legolas could register was a rough, hot tongue, licking sinfully up the other side of his erection.

Legolas screamed in ecstasy as the warmth of Aragorn's mouth swallowed his cock, and the sound went straight to the king's groin. Aragorn was exceptionally gifted at sucking the elf's length, however, he rarely offered to do so. Legolas's fingernails scraped against the marble floor until they found Aragorn's hair and embedded themselves in dark tresses. The king's cheeks hollowed as he pumped Legolas's cock. Sending him soaring towards the bliss of orgasm.

"I'm close," Legolas cried, and Aragorn suddenly stopped, peeling away to leave Legolas panting.

"As am I," Aragorn rumbled, their eyes connecting in a frenzy.

The king bent gracefully to suck Legolas's tongue into his mouth once more, forcing the elf to taste the tang of his own pre cum.

Once he stopped, Aragorn pressed his erection against that of his lover, and wrapped his massive hand around both of their shafts. As he pumped both of their rock hard cocks together, he rocked his hips against the elf, and cried out in pleasure.

His harmony was interrupted by Legolas's shout of, "Please, Aragorn."

The king opened his eyes and looked down in alarm to Legolas's darkened eyes.

"Do not tease me so," Legolas murmured in the elf tongue. "_Fuck_ me."

Aragorn placed a needy kiss to Legolas's abdomen and muttered, "Lubrication."

"Don't need it," Legolas protested.

"But—"

"I want to feel you completely filling me," Legolas managed to say. "Do not prepare me for that."

This was all the encouragement Aragorn needed to line up his cock with the elf's familiar, puckered entrance, and thrust.

They both cried out as the king forced himself into his elfin lover to the hilt, and he stayed completely still, embedded in the prince until Legolas gave in the okay to move.

And move he did. Finding Legolas's sweet spot, he pounded feverishly into the elf, holding eye contact with the screaming elf for the entirety of the affair.

"Oh, Legolas!" croaked Aragorn in delight. "I love you."

"I love you," the elf repeated brokenly. "I'm close, Aragorn, I'm going to—"

With one last cry of his lover's name, Legolas went spiraling into his climax, and the twisted look of paradise that fixed itself to the elf's face was all it took for Aragorn to orgasm himself.

The king collapsed against Legolas's form, shimmering with perspiration. The pair of them held each other, panting, recovering from orgasmic bliss.

"Worth the wait?" Aragorn finally whispered, biting lightly on Legolas's delicately pointed ear.

"More than," the elf sighed. "I love you."

"I love you, too," answered Gondor's king. "Looks as though you are going to be sore on our ride tomorrow."

They were both faintly aware of a soft shuffling in the background, neither of them really noticing the smattering of footsteps which sounded from behind.

However, both pairs of eyes flew open at the sound of a horrified gasp, and the next thing they knew, they were face to face with Frodo Baggins.

**(A/N): I know! I broke a pinky promise! Something came up and I hadn't time to put thought into AL sex yesterday! Don't send me to jail! Eeeeeep! Anyway the important thing is that my dirty mind did wake up this morning so I was able to post today, and I hope you all enjoyed my first attempt at writing lemons. There will be more soon! YAYYYY!**


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